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 other artists. Sympathy is essentially a product of imagination. Only if a person can place himself in the position of another, he will feel sympathy for him. If that be so, it may be contended here, then the most cruel and heartless of men may, by virtue of his imaginative power, if he has any, very well serve the ends of art by compelling within  himself a feeling of sympathy for the suffering. True, but there is yet another class of people in whom the tender feeling of pity and other similar feelings are already so strong that sympathy is the innate virtue of their character, and does not call for the aid of imagination. Psychologists hold that even in such cases imagination goes on functioning, unseen, but the functioning is so much intuitive and so very quick that one fails to realize its persence. Yet there is a distinction between these two classes of people. The sympathy of persons belonging to the former class is under their control, whereas the sympathy of the people of the latter class only overpowers them instead of being under their control. To the people of the former class Sympathy serves as a handmaid, and makes her appearance only when called upon, or she is powerless to appear at all. As to the people of the latter class, Sympathy holds them in her thrall. Whether they want her or no, she will come of her own and possess them, instal herself in their hearts and reign there. With the class of people it is imagination which is dominant, with the latter class it is feelings like love and pity that are the strongest.

Dinabandhu belonged to the latter class. He did not hold Symapthy in his power, Sympathy held him in hers. He would go wherever she led him, and would do whatever she asked him to do. Now perhaps it will be easier for us to know why his works sometimes betray lapses of taste. He was himself well educated, and bore a spotless character, yet his works often reveal such lapses. The very keen and strong sympathy of his character would perhaps explain this incongruity. Whenever he sat down to portray the character of one with whom he had sympathy, the entire character would come up in his mind and he would draw it whole. He had not the power to choose and discard, for Sympathy was his mistress, and not he, the master of Sympathy. It has been already said that he used to portray a character, keeping a living ideal before him, and just because he felt sympathy for that